


Distance Perspectives: The Afternoon After The Evening Before

by MirandasMadeOfStone



Series: Distance Perspectives [2]
Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Genre: F/M, Hurt, Long-Distance Relationship, Memories, One Shot, Rae's POV, Regret, Reminiscing, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-04-02 10:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4057153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirandasMadeOfStone/pseuds/MirandasMadeOfStone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is the second of my Distance Perspectives - looking at what might happen if Rae and Finn were separated. It’s the same story as 'The Morning After The Evening Before' but with a different ending.</p><p>Like the other one, it’s a short piece and a bit of a one off. Thanks to how-ardently for her wonderful help.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Distance Perspectives: The Afternoon After The Evening Before

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second of my Distance Perspectives - looking at what might happen if Rae and Finn were separated. It’s the same story as 'The Morning After The Evening Before' but with a different ending.
> 
> Like the other one, it’s a short piece and a bit of a one off. Thanks to how-ardently for her wonderful help.

The box balanced precariously on the edge of coffee table suddenly topples off with a resounding crash, depositing its contents all over the floor. Rae mutters curses under her breath, setting aside the speakers she was carrying in favour of tending to the box. Upon realising that its innards comprise no more than some heavy pots and pans and other kitchen paraphernalia, she breathes a sigh of relief.

Perturbed by the eerie stillness of the flat, she decides to open a window and let some of the noise from the street below filter in. She draws aside one of the thick brown textured curtains, giving it a quick shake, releasings some of the dust gathered within its folds. Then she hoists up the slatted blind and peers out of the grimy glass. Staring uncomfortably at the spiders’ webs on the window catch, she shuts her eyes and counts to three before finally releasing the squeaky mechanism and letting the evening in.

It’s not the romantic bustle of couples traveling together, families on their way home from the cinema and chattering groups of friends that she hoped for. Instead, it’s the noise of thousands of people passing her little corner of the world on their way to somewhere. The flat is on one of the top floors of the block, giving her a spectacular vantage over the cityscape beneath. She pauses to inhale the cloying air deeply. Apart from the smog of the busy city, she detects something else.  She sniffs again trying to determine what it is about that smell, one she now recognises as the impending arrival of Autumn, that bothers her.

She turns round and surveys the maelstrom of boxes, bags and packing detritus strewn all over the floor of the living room. It seems like a lot of belongings for someone who only left home a little over three years ago. She pulls up the faded cotton sleeve of her favourite Primal Scream t-shirt and looks at her watch. It’s already gone 7pm and she’s barely made any progress since she arrived full of smiles, pride and determined exuberance at lunchtime.

Much as she would like to continue setting up the stereo, she decides that there are more important things to be achieved. Rummaging through a pile of black bin bags, she eventually locates the smart white paper bag, complete with its embossed purple lettering. She carries it through to her bedroom and undoes the silky ribbons slowly to prolong the anticipation. She traces the outline of one of the dozens of tiny grey embroidered guitars that adorn the maroon cotton duvet cover with a smile.

It had been a ridiculous extravagance, which she had somehow justified to herself as a treat in celebration of her new life. She could have opted for a second plain poly cotton set from the discount store where she’d acquired the duvet, but that had belied the significance of this purchase. For this is her first king sized duvet to go with the first bed she’s ever bought - a plain divan with drawers underneath. Cheap and cheerful, as her mother would put it. But she had been adamant in her preference over the pine double.

He would like the duvet cover, were he to notice it first, rather than taking in the increased dimensions of the bed. She shakes her head with a wry smile, realising that he would, most definitely, approve. She contemplates all those nights they had spent together in her cramped student bed or his slightly more spacious one tucked under the eaves in his father’s house. All those fleeting but joyous intimate moments spent talking in the middle of a dark night, gazing out at starry skies and considering the world beyond them.

She places the pillow on her bed and steps back to admire her handiwork, smoothing down a rumple in the far corner. She ambles back through to the living room and nearly trips on a modestly sized plastic crate,  shaking her head at her own clumsiness, something she’s never quite grown out of. She decides, that despite the late hour, tea is what she needs. Flicking the switch on the once white but now yellowing plastic kettle ,she glances into her favourite mug, left out from being used earlier.

Not able to locate any washing up liquid, she casts around for another mug. She can’t recall exactly which box she’d packed the rest of her motley collection in. Traipsing tiredly back into the living room, her eye catches a huge cardboard box marked “Fragile.” She stoops down and carefully uses her nails to lever up the tape before pulling it off in a single stroke. Her eyes light up at the hundreds of plastic cases within. She pulls out a couple, reading their backs as if she had never seen them before and smiles.

When her fingers, seemingly unwittingly, locate Definitely Maybe, her breath hitches in her throat. This had been their album after he’d come back from Leeds. Naturally, they had each owned a copy, but one had been left at some crazy drunken party at Chop’s. So they had shared, passing the now cracked and battered case between them on occasions too numerous to recollect. A soft smile plays on her lips as she recalls how it had been the first album he’d played when she had arrived in Bristol.

He had insisted on driving her down there and helping her move in. It had been a ridiculously long day with numerous mishaps, including not being able to locate the halls of residence. She had become increasingly wound up as the minutes had ticked by, but he’d been so calm and reassuring. There had been a moment when her breath had become shorter and faster and the world had seemed to spin too quickly;he’d placed her hands on his chest and breathed slowly whilst soothingly rubbing her back until she had stilled.

Tirelessly, he had carried all her belongings up to her room on the third floor. It had been an unseasonably warm September day and he’d thrown aside his coat and jumper. They had ended up drinking tea on her bed. Sweat had glistened on his skin and she’d cracked a comforting joke about BO. Even now, she can see his undeniably beautiful face as it had been when he had dozed off that evening; the constellations of his freckles, the three day old stubble, the thick eyebrows and the full lips.

Gently, she replaces the CD and closes the lid of the box and returns to the heap on the floor. She moves bin bag after bin bag of clothes in her search. She’d never been a great one for fashion, unlike Chloe. She had happily survived her whole way through college and her first year in Bristol in a limited wardrobe consisting of jeans, leggings, band t-shirts, converse and a handful of his flannel shirts.

He had actually bought her three new shirts as a going away present. She recollects crying somewhat ungratefully at the gift as they simply hadn’t smelt like him. So he’d kept the shirts and given her three of his own to take away. Including the much treasured one he had worn all those years ago when he had played Spaceman in his room, and had tried to talk her into going to the rave. He had been surprisingly reluctant to part with it, having kept it safe at the back of a drawer for months. She had finally worn him down, after a particularly heated and lengthy bout of lovemaking and had thrown in the Oasis t-shirt she had been wearing as part of the bargain.

She realises her mouth is more than a little dry and tiredness has insidiously started to creep in.  It takes her quite some minutes to excavate the mugs,which are inside a large yellow crate that had once housed vinyl. She takes a lucky dip from the newspaper wrapped shapes. Her chest constricts a little as she pulls out the chipped tartan mug. She shuts her eyes and takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to compose herself.

A shiver runs through her and she rubs at the goosebumps that have formed on her arms. She balances the mug a little carelessly on the arm of the sofa and pulls the window shut and is completely alone once more. She reboils the kettle and inspects the escaping curls and puffs of steam in more detail as if they may hold answers.

For some reason, this had become his mug,the one his hand seemed to reach for every time he had stayed with her. Although there had been many much longed for and planned trips, the unexpected ones had been her favourites. He had seemed to understand her emotions and moods so well. She’d tried not to bring him down with her tears but he’d instinctively known when she had had needed him most  and had made the 300 mile round trip on several occasions in the middle of the night. Sometimes he’d only stayed a few hours and had simply held her and mumbled soothing nonsense in her ear.

By her third year, she hadn’t needed any such trips.  As time had worn on, she’d grown into an increasingly confident woman. A woman who loved to party and meet new people. She and Katie had always enjoyed the social side of University but it ramped up to a whole new level in the third year. When she had made it to Stamford on Christmas Eve, she calculated that she hadn’t actually seen him for four weeks, and not even spoken to him for two. She had lavished him with emotional and physical attention over the holidays. They had discussed their future together once more down to the detail of how their music collection would be ordered.

She pours boiling water over the slightly dishevelled tea bag and holds it firm with a spoon. He’d drunk out of this very mug when he had visited on that cold April morning and stutteringly confessed, staring at his boots, that he couldn’t do it any longer. Even now she muses how she could have failed to notice that he needed as much love and reassurance as she had. She wipes away the tears that are now falling freely down her cheeks.

She can’t help but wonder what might have happened, had she had the courage and conviction to follow her intuition and immediately go after him. Archie and Chloe had visited to try and stick the broken pieces back together. Her admission that she missed and yearned for the man she loved so much had been made in between great wracking sobs. Yet she’d still not taken action, complacent in the knowledge there hadn’t been anybody else at the root of his decision. Instead, she’d chosen to chase the shiny dream of being an independent woman, ready to conquer the world with her new friends at her side.

Something had finally given way after her finals and she’d made heroic trip back to Stamford, only too ready to repent, and even prepared to beg. But he’d already left. She had received a single postcard from Australia in August that wished her well and stated she could keep his albums.

She bites her lip hard and screws up her eyes concentrating on the way the air fills her lungs. She pours milk into her tea and collects herself as best she can. Sipping at the burning fluid, she meanders through to the second bedroom, allowing herself a moment to recreate the imaginary music room once more. Silently, she pulls the door closed and dabs at her eyes with her sleeve.

She tells herself that it will all be better tomorrow when life returns to its inimitable crazy pace. She’s already found a great little pub where their evening will start with a few beers. No doubt Katie will drag her to some incredible club and they’ll spend the rest of the weekend woefully hung over before they both join the world of work on Monday morning.


End file.
